


The New Agent Washington

by Genna-Red (Genna_Bella)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Extreme Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Gen, I mean extreme., M/M, Military Training, Non-Sexual Age Play, Parental Freelancers (Red vs. Blue), Teen Angst, When I say extreme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Genna_Bella/pseuds/Genna-Red
Summary: “I have no doubt the fine young men and women in front of me are here because they are fit for our program.” The middle-aged man at the lectern announces to us. “All fifty of you represent determination, power, and freedom in your stride, your manners, and most importantly: your ability as a soldier.”New blood is needed for project freelancer. New blood in the form of Lavernius Tucker and quite a few the friends he makes along the way.Set to adopt the name of Agent Washington, the two are going to have to bond like a father and son would if they have any hope of being the best.and Lavernius has no doubt that is exactly how events will pan out.
Relationships: Agent Carolina/Agent York (Red vs. Blue), Agent Connecticut/Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue), Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons, Lavernius Tucker & Agent Washington, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

“I have no doubt the fine young men and women in front of me are here because they are fit for our program.” The middle-aged man at the lectern announces to us. “All fifty of you represent determination, power, and freedom in your stride, your manners, and most importantly: your ability as a soldier.”

I try not to make my movement obvious as I wash over the sea of helmeted heads showing an assortment of coloured accents on white plate armour, ranging from fiery red to mellow blue.

“To further prepare you for your life as a soldier, we’ve taken the liberty to assign you one of our fifty agents as a parental figure of sorts as well as a personal mentor. This freelancer will be the one currently bearing your future moniker, they will surrender it when they deem you ready.” He explains, his hands firmly grasped behind his back as he speaks softly yet firmly like a disappointed father.

I had a feint idea why we were here, not a very fleshed out one though. I guess that’s intentional on account of the whole ‘top secret military organisation’ bull crap. I mean seriously, you hire fifty teenagers to keep a secret? You know that shit won’t work! Why bother?

“I can however say with absolute confidence that none of you will be graduating within the year.”

Is that a challenge?

“That does not mean I am giving you permission to slack off or give anything less than one hundred percent every one of your waking hours.” He glares at us. “Do I make myself clear?”

A second of silence goes by, no one even clearing their throat out of fear, respect or any other number of things.

“I said do I make myself clear?” He repeats with icy intensity.

“Yes, Sir.” I say audibly alongside most if not all the other troopers, some even going as far as saluting.

Kiss asses.

“Brilliant.” The man smiles, “under your chair you should find your new code name. Please use it to locate your new residence and subsequently, your new mentor.”

As the lecturer leaves the stage I look through my legs to see a standard closed envelope under my chair. I reach down and pick it up with relative ease despite this armour being the worst thing I’ve had to wear since my grandma got me that pink jumper.

‘Lightish-red’ isn’t a fucking thing, okay? It’s pink, p.i.n.k, pink.

I fat-finger my way through the top of the envelope no thanks to aforementioned shitty armour, pulling out a thin sheet of paper with ‘Washington’ written on it in plain print.

These guys really went all out, didn’t they.

I hear some around me complain about the state they got, namely the guy in orange highlights complaining about ‘Montanna’ claiming it was gay because of the early 2000’s tv show about the pop star? I have no idea why someone in our generation would know about that. And the girl talking to someone else about how the hell she was going to go about calling herself ‘Rhode Island’. In fairness though, Agent Rhode sounds fucking lit, like a super hero or something.

Most of us were filing out of the auditorium pretty quickly, following whoever was in front of us to wherever we were meant to be going next. The dorms? I wonder if my stuff was already there or if I had to collect it from somewhere else like the UNSC version of TSA back on Earth.

I feel myself losing focus on the task at hand and instead wondering if some of the others will take after their states, like if California starts having wild fucking parties where Florida pulls the weirdest shit imaginable whilst Alabama and Mississippi pray for us.

I look up in time to see a wide and long hallway full of doors either side, plaques differentiating the otherwise desolate and indistinguishable entrances. 

By now we were around twenty-five percent deep into the rooms, as a result around twelve/fourteen had found their dorms leaving the rest of us to continue looking.

Hawaii and Oklahoma.

Alaska and Nebraska. (oh god why)

New Hampshire and Indiana.

New York and South Carolina. 

Washington and Connecticut.

Mississippi and-- wait a second.

I step to the side to get out of the dwindling crowd, backing up a bit to reach my door. I feel my face drop as it dawns on me I have no idea how to open it although looking around quickly shows me no one else had even the slightest clue what the fuck was happening either.

I look around for anything I could potentially press, pull or even hit, eventually finding a green button to hit.

The doors heave open with appropriate pistonic thunks, revealing a nice interior home.

An open living room immediately to my left boasted enough space for a family complete with a wall mounted television and what looks like a gaming set resting on a table under it. 

Now someone knows how teens work, and I like them whoever they are.

To the right of the living room, meaning diagonally left of the entrance, is a kitchen. It seems quaint enough, like it’d be able to get the job done. I begin opening and closing most of the draws finding miscellaneous foodstuffs and other ingredients.

How did they get all these things? Earth’s light-years away and it’s not like we can just hop down to the supermarket or something. I wonder if they have farming colonies here or something and if so who looks after them?

If it’s one of the freelancer’s that’d be funny as fuck. ‘Agent Oregon, highly trained bad-ass space marine digs up potatoes in his spare time.’

Do they have janitors here or something? Do we have to put like ‘do not disturb signs’ on our doors?

“Get outta the cupboards, fat-ass!” I hear a girl tease from behind me, causing me to jump unexpectedly.

I turn around at lightning speed, making eye contact with another one of the recruits in the orange accented armour as I slowly put away the packet of pop-tarts I was admiring. "Holy hell, I didn’t hear you come in.” I laugh awkwardly, releasing tension. “I’m guessing you’re Connecticut?”

“Yup,” She places her hands on her hips. “So I’m assuming you’re Washington.”

“The one and only.” I smirk, folding my arms against the kitchen counter, leaning into it with a grin on my face. Something feels weird about flirting with a girl I don’t even know the face or real name of, but it’s the same as online sexting so whatever.

“Give it a year and a half of solid, hard work and you could be right.” A man joins our conversation, his armour black with yellow highlights. Another figure in brown entering from behind him. “How’re you two doing?”

“Fat-ass was about to get into the pop-tarts.”

“Was not! I was just looking at them.” I protest, “I’ve only been the Earth like twice, the fuck you think I have ready access to fuckin’ pop-tarts for?”

“Language.” The woman in brown says slowly and angrily. “You two’ve known each other for less than five minutes, let’s please be a little more civil.”

I glare daggers at her in response.

“You went from saying you weren’t gonna eat them to admitting you were!” Connecticut points at me accusingly whilst looking over to the two adults in our presence.

“Stop it, both of you.” The woman in brown commands, folding her arms. “Let’s just calm down and focus our attention to something that’s worth it.”

“Like Introductions.” The man in black and yellow changes the subject. “I’m the current Agent Washington.”

“Yeah, ‘kinda figured.” I get up from my leaning position to better accommodate the change of mood.

“And I’m the acting Agent Connecticut.” The other agent greets us, her tone still ringing upset from her chewing us out.

My peer and I look to one another before refocusing on the agents.

“So what are we giving our full names? First names? Nicknames.” I ask.

“A nickname is fine for now, but you can give as much as you want.” Connecticut says, I could hear her sigh through the armour.

“Well, I’m Kai.” Connie-the-younger introduces herself first.

“That’s a boy’s name.” I state.

"Is not" she glares at me, tensions rising again. "Like yours is any better."

"Tucker is a way better name than Kai." I sneer.

"Tucker? Tucker's a whiter name than 'Dwight' or 'Dwayne'." She mocks, "are you sure you're not a sitcom character?"

"Come on, guys. Let's not make fun of each other's names." Washington sighs at our antics.

"It's my last name, but it's still better than ‘Kai’." I frown.

"Okay stop it, you two." Washington says again, this time a little more firm. "You're meant to be professionals."

"Professionals in training." Kai corrects him.

"Well you professionals in training have classes tomorrow. So stop fighting each other and save your strength for what matters." Connecticut walks into one of the doors attached to the right-most wall, quickly returning with two pieces of paper. "I was given your schedules ahead of time."

We thank her as she hands us our time-tables. Most of the rectangles filled with classes like acrobatics, robotics and other basic shit.

Tutoring twice a day, start and finish, as well as a whole fuck-ton of simulation training.

The rectangles were colour coded too. Purple for simulation training, yellow for tutoring, teal for most of the ones related to acrobatics and stealth, and white for everything else.

"That's a lot of things I'm meant to care about." Kai giggles uncomfortably.

"You'll get used to it." Connecticut shrugs.

"Ugh, I hope." Kai shakes her head, "I have gym like two times a day here."

"Gym? I don't have gym." I turn to her confused.

"What do you have?" She grabs for my sheet, I let her take it in exchange for her own.

"You're in different disciplines, so naturally you're going to have different classes." Washington stretches, quickly removing his helmet and running a hand through bleached tips and out of his face.

"We're allowed to do that?" I whisper.

"Here we can, just not outside.” Washington puts the helmet back on, looking over to the kitchen to see the time. “It’s only 5pm and I’m assuming you two haven’t unpacked any of your things yet. You should go do that.”

I look to Kai who shrugs in response, opening various doors until she finds the one with her suitcases inside. “Well, at least I didn’t have to go through TSA or anything.”


	2. Chapter 2

“What're they doing?” I ask the guy next to me, his focus directed towards the base we were spying on as part of reconnaissance training.

He slowly turns his head to face me, still keeping a firm grip on his rifle. “What?”

“I said, ‘What are they doing now?’.” I reiterate, poking my head out from behind the rock to get an angle on what was going on.

“God damn, I'm getting so sick of answering that question!” He bursts, clearly frustrated.

“You have the fucking rifle, I can't see shit. Don't bitch at me because I'm not going to just sit up here and play with my dick.” I defend myself, making exaggerated hand gestures at him as I regain cover from behind the rocks we were behind.

“Okay, okay, look... they're just standing there and talking, okay?” He points to the base we were inspecting as well as the group of four on top of it, their guns pointing to the nooks and crannies of the canyon to try and spot the enemy. “That's all they're doing. That's all they can do, is just stand there and talk. That's what they were doing when you asked me five minutes ago, so five minutes from now, when you ask me, ‘What are they doing?’ my answer's gonna be: ‘They’re still just talking, and they're still just standing there’!” He screams, causing us both to fall silent.

“...what're they talking about?” I whisper, eliciting a pained shriek from the sniper.

“Acquiring target!” We hear a yell from the base, shots sounding quicker than I can react, covering us both in pink crystalised foam.

I recoil in fright, quickly trying to lock onto a target with my rifle only for my now insanely angry partner to strike me over the head, making me lose focus.

“South Carolina and Washington have been eliminated, please exit via the main door to clean up and receive analysis.” Our bored sounding teacher instructs over the intercom.

I take a second to gather my senses and understand what the hell just happened, running fingers over my ‘injuries’ and seeing where the shots came from.

“This is all your fucking fault, Wash.” Carolina storms down the side of the ridge with his rifle slung over his back, fuming as he went. “I swear to God I will find your dorm, and when you least expect it, I will shove my foot so far up your ass you’ll be calling me daddy!” He threatens as he leaves.

I follow behind him whilst trying to pick at the pink shit on my chest. Two shots, one slightly lower than my shoulder and one dangerously close to my heart.

Carolina had taken one to the side of his head as well as one to his shoulder, I guess the shoulder wound’s survivable but not many people usually walk away from head wounds in the real world, that’s a movie thing.

He hits the button zealously to open the door, trudging into the side room where we were being waited for by a freelancer in straight blue armour.

“Well boys, I was watching the match and I have to say, I’m a little disappointed in the two of you.” He folds his hands to his knees and leans forwards away from the chair, I immediately feel like I’m in therapy. “You gave away your position by arguing loud enough for the enemy to hear you as well as using some rather colourful language.”

Can we not? I just wanna get to the locker rooms and clean off this shit before the next round of simulation training. Not hear whatever dad-like pep-talk Florida wants to give us. Well, I’m pretty sure this is Florida at least.

I know this guy’s only here to do Ms Dakota’s job for her. I feel sorry for whoever has her as a mentor.

“He started it.” Carolina mumbles.

“It doesn’t matter if he did, what matters is that you would overcome that hurdle and adopt a more professional manner.”

I sneak a look at Carolina who was doing the same to me. Even though we clearly didn’t get off on the right foot, we can both taste the bullshit coming off this man’s words.

“Sure thing, sir.” I salute for good measure, “May we be excused?”

“Yes, Washington. You can leave. Make sure to use the correct dissolving agent for the faux bullet residue.” He dismisses me, “Carolina, talk to your superiour about the new emotions, she’ll likely want to hear about it.”

I ignore the cryptic message given to Carolina because not only was it not my business, but I really couldn’t care less. Instead I make my way to my dorm room as instructed, opening the door and looking through various containers for the cleaning agent.

I don’t recall Kai having any activity that would need her to be here, but if she sees me wearing nothing but undergarments maybe we could segway into some shitty porn acting.

Luckily I remain alone for the time needed to clean my armour and re-equip it before I hear the door open and Kai comes running past me, darting into her room, grabbing a towel and running into the bathroom all at lightning speed.

I ignore her and walk towards another simulation arena a fair ways from the dorms said to be holding my next class. The plaque on the side of the door reading ‘Simulation 4: School-yard’ and opening it revealed two freelancers as well as three students, one purple, one pink, and one dark blue.

“You’re five minutes late, kid. What’s your handle?” a freelancer in purple armour and green highlights asks, grabbing a clipboard and jotting something down.

“Washington, sir.” I reply.

He jots something down before returning to eye level with us, “your superiors haven’t taught you lot about punctuality yet?” He addresses all four of us. “Wash here’s five minutes late and we’re still waiting on four more.”

“Maybe some of us just had classes really far away from each other?” A guy in purple accents proposes, “I’m in the medical branch and we had theory so I didn’t have to clean up or anything. Maybe some people had prac?”

“I had shop, but we didn’t actually do any shopping.” The guy in blue accents throws in, frowning. “We just made things out of other things. I wanted to buy some cereal.”

“That’s not an excuse you can pull for very long.” The second freelancer in solid colour beige ignores the blue guy in favour of answering the purple one, “trust me, you’ll learn real quickly how to take two minute showers and clean the faux bullet residue off your armour at record pace.”

“Who holds the record for that?” The other freelancer asks his friend.

“I dunno. Pennsylvania probably.” He shrugs.

I hear the door behind me slide open, two students walking in one after the other.

They walk in front of me, one in maroon highlights, one in the same cobalt Carolina had been presented in.

“Sirs, I am so sorry for being late. I was in the workshop with Agents Illinois and Maryland, sir.” The maroon rambles nigh incoherently whilst saluting to the freelancers in front of us who just stare at him for a second.

“That’s okay, uhm. What’s your code, kid?” The one with the clipboard asks, clearly trying to stop himself from laughing.

“Wyoming, sir.” He responds.

The beige freelancer lets out a quiet but audible ugly snort, turning on his heel to quickly face away from us.

“You are a special kind of person.” The cobalt next to him sneers, his voice ringing identical to Carolina.

Uh oh.

If that’s Carolina, does he realise I’m Washington? Unlikely because he hasn’t screamed at me yet, but he’s gotta find out sooner or later.

The door opens again and two orange clad students walk in, the only defining trait between them was that one shorter than the other.

“Okay, you two have officially wasted ten minutes of our one hour lesson on simply showing up.” The teacher sighs, “and by process of elimination you are Maine and Connecticut.”

Connecticut? That increases the amount of people I know in this room to two.

“So, this is going to be a specialist heavy training exercise. We’ve been told to devote this session to watching what you can do with your base equipment as well as all abilities you have access to as part of heritage or class or whatever.” The beige freelancer explains, “This is meant to show us you can hold your own in your specialist role.”

“As such, teams are as follows:” The one with the clip-board takes over. “Maine, Wyoming, Iowa and Texas on one team. Washington, Connecticut, South Carolina and Florida on the other.”

“Washington? Oh no, please no.” I hear a Carolina fall into despair. “York, please don’t make me be on the same team as Washington, please? I saw the teal and hoped for the best but please not Washington!”

“Me? North decided the teams I have no say.” The beige freelancer who I now know as York explains, “plus, you’re gonna have to work with the people you dislike in the future anyway, why not start now?”

“Because I don’t neeeeeeed to now.” Carolina whines, drawing out the ‘eee’s.

“I’m right here.” I mumble.

“That’s the pooooiiint.” He whines again.

“Stop it Carolina, you’re working with Washington and that’s final.” North instructs him. “You have ten minutes to work out a strategy with your team. Think of everything from your environment to your composition to your weaknesses and anything else you can work with to secure the victory.”

York fiddles with his watch for a moment, looking up to address us again once more. “Time starts now.” 


	3. Chapter 3

“Remember, thirty minutes to capture the flag and escape. Attack to injure and watch your sixes. Good luck, blue.” I hear York’s final words over the radio before the channel’s handed over to us again.

As we run through the school’s halls I can’t help but feel a little creeped out. Everything from the flickering light fixtures on the ceiling to the classrooms with locked doors and crash-test dummies in prearranged positions to look like civilians, made everything feel just a tad more immersive than it should be.

“Remember, I’m on your radios and I’ve redirected the red’s channel to ours too. They won’t be able to hear <em>us</em> speaking but we’ll be able to hear <em>them</em> at all times.” Carolina explains, flitting behind us in holographic form, something he can do apparently. “I honestly have no idea how to toggle the dual channel thing, we’re gonna have to make do as is.” 

I sigh to myself, this is gonna be hard. Our movement is far from stealthy, even though I for one moved silently with no surprise from anyone else, y’know, seeing as that’s literally my whole ‘thing’. Florida and Kai’s steps were heavy in contrast, sure, but I guess I can’t blame them for being regular people.

But Florida’s fucking robot? Freckles? I want to know by what miracle of fucking nature got that thing approved as a base weapon. 

I swear, solely thanks to this thing, any chance we had of sneaking our way through is already long gone. I cannot believe I have been made freaking redundant by a <strong>nine foot robot</strong>.

“We’re gonna have to be a little quieter, guys. If they locate us, we’re finished.” I voice my thoughts, albeit a little kinder than what I really wanted to say, picking up my pace quietly whilst remaining low to the floor.

I quickly use the apparatus on my left wrist to bug every wall I can, making sure to shoot them under the locked doors as well.

“You getting this, ‘Lina?” I whisper, looking to my right and see another corridor.

I gesture for everyone to move forwards.

“Yeah, I’m getting it, Wash.” He responds.

We were now stuck in a corner whilst we figure out what to do next, great. If they surround us now we’re surely done for. We have next to no intel on these guys and very limited knowledge on each other, things might go south soon if we aren’t careful.

Kai mentioned ahead of time the people in orange were essentially human tanks, designed to protect their team and run over opposition. As a result, we now know that keeping an eye on Maine is somewhat a necessity.

I had informed the group what the guy in purple had said about studying in the medical branch and how the one in pink never spoke up.

Despite having the previous lesson with Wyoming, Florida had literally nothing to say about him. It was actually sort of impressive how someone can be that oblivious but having to listen to Florida speak was more than enough evidence as to why.

“Still no sign of the blues here.” Someone says over the radio. One of the reds, sure, but we have no indication of who or what thanks to Carolina’s primitive methods. I mean, is it fucking 2531 again? Update your sit, dude.

“They’re likely still in the hall. If you see them, radio.” Another voice instructs.

“The first one was Maine.” Kai whispers, catching up to us.

“Yeah, the second was Wyoming.” I nod, looking to Carolina who reappears next to us. “Do we know where Texas and Iowa are?”

“Guarding the flag? Because that’s the objective?” He responds, explaining like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh wow, we get flags?!” Florida yells excitedly.

“No, Florida. We don’t get flags.” Carolina sighs.

“I hear yelling, moving in.” Wyoming announces.

“You’re just gonna move in? It could be a trap!” I hear someone else warn, a voice we hadn’t heard before or just one I couldn’t place.

“They won’t see me. I can just… Stealth my way in…” He responds.

“Stealth?” Maine laughs at him. “They have a stealth <em>operative</em> on their squad, like that’s their entire job? You really think you can out stealth the stealth?” 

“I mean, It can’t hurt to try.”

“Uh, yes it can, dude.” The other (unknown) voice argues, “If you get caught in a trap it becomes a three on one, and I’m not talking about the good kind of trap.”

“Yeah, statistically speaking--” The purple one begins to speak before getting cut off by Maine.

“Shut up, Texas.”

The radio goes silent for a second.

“Y’know I don’t appreciate--”

“Shut <em>up</em>, Texas.” Wyoming groans.

“We’re in a corner. There’s a door behind us and we have lines of sight down both roads.” Carolina whispers.

“What’s in the room behind us?” Kai asks.

“A big party, party supplies. Like dishwasher detergent.” Florida babbles.

“I don’t know what’s in the room, Wash hasn’t bugged it.” Carolina argues.

I reach behind me, shooting a bug under the door whilst looking at the hologram with a spark of defiance.

“Okay then, updating…” Carolina scratches his chin, making thinking noises. 

“Uh, guys? Freckles is saying there are heat signatures over there.” Florida points down the hall at nothing.

Instantly Kai and I adopt defensive stances, facing the direction Florida and Freckles are pointing.

Freckles turns to the left to face the other corridor. “Enemy sighted.”

We turn with him to see familiar orange on white armour, the owner of which moving menacingly towards us.

“I got it.” Kai walks to meet him.

“What about the other one?” Florida asks. “I still can’t see him.”

“The other one?” I look down the first hall where Florida was still pointed. I can’t see anything either.

“Wash, now would be a great time to pull a smoke-bomb out of your ass.” Carolina laughs to mask the fear in his voice.

“It’s two on four, ‘Lina. We won’t get another chance like this.” I shake my head.

“Two on one?” Maine laughs at us. “Where’d you get that idea?”

“Uh, are you trying to say there’s more of you? Or less of you.” I ask him, “Because either way you’re still screwed.”

“Freckles is probably picking up Wyoming’s signature.” Carolina mumbles.

“Can’t we flush him out?” Kai asks.

“This is no time for toilet jokes, Connecticut!” Florida protests.

“Florida, get Freckles to shoot at the other heat signature!” I instruct.

Florida nods, hugging onto the robot’s leg and looking up to it with an innocent smile.

“Freckles, pretty please can you fire down the hall, please?” He coaxes, the robot turning around and cocking its gun and firing rapidly down the hall.

“Wait what about civilians?” Carolina mutters, gasping in shock when he realises what we’ve done on impulse. I can barely hear him over the sound of auto-fire from Freckles’ cannons.

Looking down Florida’s hall we watch as a suddenly visible white and maroon set of armour tries to dodge bullets, whilst firing the first shots for his team. Three in succession from a large rifle, all three landing on the robot.

To my left I hear Maine engage Kai, or maybe the other way around, the two in a shoving match with no guns involved yet.

“I’m leaving you to help Connie. Help Florida, he’s gonna need it.” Carolina nods, flitting out of my sight.

“Wait, Carolina? South?” I ask the air, realising I wasn’t getting a response despite being literally just told he was leaving me.

I sigh at my own stupidity, moving in to help Florida.

Shit’s getting real way too fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There’s a good kind of trap?” Carolina interjects, whispering as to not drown out the radios.
> 
> “Fuck yeah there is!” Kai smirks knowledgeably.


	4. Chapter 4

One.

Two.

Three.

Three shots from Wyoming’s hip had sent both him and the behemoth Freckles down to their knees.

Kai and Maine were still locked in a pushing match, no punches thrown or weapons drawn yet but shit looks like it has the potential to get real heated.

Panic washes over Florida’s face as he fumbles for his sidearm, loading it just in time to shoot at the momentarily stunned Wyoming, landing a single shot on the side of his shin.

In return Wyoming takes a second to aim, firing four shots. He hits the joints of Freckles’ arms flawlessly, hitting one of the legs and missing his fourth shot as a result of me jumping him instead.

I grab for his neck in an attempt to restrain him, my other hand reaching for his weapon which he promptly uses to butt my head, using the time my being stunned gives him to roll out of the way.

I reach for my sidearm, Florida abandoning Wyoming in favour of helping the robot that had been so callously destroyed by the maroon sniper.

I fire twice at Wyoming, hitting his arm once and missing the second time. He staggers, running at me after recovering, in response I pivot on my heel and fall out of his line of sight just enough so I can surprise him when I grab his wrist with one hand and the back of his neck with the other. I manage to bring him to the ground with a resounding thud, but part of me wonders why it was so hard to pin the scrawny shit.

“Still think you can out-stealth the stealth?” I tease, kicking the gun out of his grasp.

He groans for a second in pain, bringing his free hand up to his ear before I can restrain it. “They’re on our comms, don’t speak through the radio they can hea--”

I cut him off by hitting the dual clasps near the back of his helmet, taking it off quickly and delivering one final shot to the back of the ginger’s head.

“Wyoming has been eliminated, grab your stuff and exit through the main door. Credit, Washington; Assist, Florida.” North announces, his tone ringing the same level of boredom as my teacher from last period. Almost like he was the make version of her.

“Way to fucking go, Wash! Now they know we’re onto them!” Carolina yells at me.

“Carolina!” I hear Kai yell in despair as she’s thrown to the ground.

I rush to help her but only in time to see Maine bring a blade down onto her chest, tagging the side of her head for himself which normally signalled a yield if done by the armour’s owner. I watch Kai brush his hand off her helmet, pressing the button herself and flopping the arm down to her side.

“Connecticut has been eliminated, grab your things and exit through the main door. Credit, Maine; Assist, Wyoming.”

Assist Wyoming? He didn’t do shit to her, he was too busy shooting the robot and getting his ass kicked.

I take a second to look at Kai’s body, noticing a shot on her shoulder facing us. A shot I can’t remember being fired.

Huh, well that’s odd I guess.

Maine gets up from his crouched position, walking towards me and a dishevelled Florida.

Florida shoots at him as best he can, stumbling back as fear washes over his face. He misses almost every shot, looking from his target to an in-operational Freckles like he was waiting for the latter to just <em>get up</em> again.

I find myself backing up as well, aiming my gun at Maine’s head. Without hesitation I fire at the enemy man delivering three shots to his chest, only two of which actually hit. After the three I continue pulling the tripper desperately, only for nothing to happen, for nothing to fire.

It must’ve jammed, stupid piece of shit.

He pulls something from his belt after holstering his giant fucking blade-gun thing, a spherical object with a small top. He pulls a little piece of metal out of said top, and runs towards us. 

A pin.

It’s a fucking ‘nade.

“Run!” I barely hear Carolina bark at us.

I drop the gun in a slight panic, pressing my a button on leg to pull back the armour, revealing the gland on my inner thigh. I haven’t used this ability much and I can only feel the active markings up to my neck, even then I should still be able to…

<em>plunk</em>

Hallelujah.

I pull back on my leg, taut with the teal string causing me to barrel forwards down the hall at a respectable speed past Maine (albeit rather unceremoniously). I land where we were before, in a corner with a door behind me.

I pinch off the string and slam down on the handle, pushing myself inside. That was fucking lucky.

I hear the blast go off less than a second after.

“Florida and Maine have been eliminated--” I hear York over the radio.

“Oh come the fuck on!” I hear Maine protest through the door.

“--please get your gear--”

“I activated my shield!”

“--and exit through the main--”

“Maine you fucking dumbass! I’m still on the floor!” Wyoming yells at him. I took off his helmet, didn’t I.

“--door… uh… Credit goes to Maine, and yeah. Uh. Twenty minutes left for both teams. Good luck.” York signs off awkwardly.

I sink down against the door, trying to hide my laughter as I listen to Wyoming yell at Maine whilst Florida yelled back for no apparent reason.

A twinkle catches my eye as I turn to see Carolina in his holographic form, buckled over in silent laughter.

“The dumb fuck didn’t even throw the grenade.” I wheeze.

“You should see Wyoming, he’s gonna be getting pink shit out of his hair for ages.” Carolina giggles.

We collect ourselves and stand up again, finding ourselves in a storage closet lined with miscellaneous items such as balloons, party streamers and... dishwasher detergent?

Florida’s a prodigy apparently.

I push the door open, having it hit against something. I push it a little harder, earning a groan from Kai who was probably blown back onto the door.

“Connie? Ah fuck.” I shimmy out of the closet into a world of solid pink foam covering every surface.

“I’m fine, Wash. I just need a second.” She groans, lulling her head back into the door.

“Sorry, Connie. This is kinda my fault.” Carolina apologises.

“Yeah, it kinda is.” She chuckles, relaxing again.

“Listen, they’re gonna pay, okay? If anyone’s gonna destroy the feeling in your legs, it’s gonna be me.” I nod heroically despite puzzled looks from both of my company. “Let’s go, South.”

We walk through the second corridor seeing as the first one was clean and bugged. I find it a little daunting both teams have been halved, means we have to pick up the slack. I guess the good part of that is so do they, but that doesn't really change things I don't think.

“We’re in the third wing now, classrooms and that are on our right, the gymnasium is a few more minutes down these halls and up ahead is the auditorium.” Carolina explains, uploading the map to my helmet so I could see for myself.

Sure enough the map showed detailed descriptions of the room's insides and outsides, even complete with coloured labels showing advantageous tactical spots and where to avoid based on known enemy locations.

“How long have you had this?” I laugh in shock, “why’d you make me bug the area?”

“Because I totally forgot security cameras were a thing, and I’m literally wired to the mainframe of this station so, yeah.”

“You are? That’s fucking dope, dude.”

“It is until you have to read the emails between the freelancers that are in relationships.” He shudders, “I’ve never been so uncomfortable looking at tits.”

“Seriously? Think you can hook me up?”

I get silence for a few moments after asking my question. “Fucking gross, dude.”

I simply shrug in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to the two people reading this story, but these small chapters are proving to take way longer than they should.  
> I have various arc ideas so don't worry, this story likely isn't going to become defunct.

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively titled: Non-American writes story with heavy American themes, gets overwhelmed rather quickly.
> 
> This chapter was just house keeping (quite literally), and the next few chapters are beginning to look enjoyable.
> 
> I would appreciate it if you told me what you think, what you're confused about and what you want to see next as anything would be useful to make this story the best it can be for both you, dear reader, and me.


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